


Just Say It

by aschicca



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, I don't know what I was thinking at the time, Jealousy, M/M, post-513 fic, too much sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 04:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aschicca/pseuds/aschicca
Summary: if there was something true to be said about Brian was that heneverbroke his promises. Until now.





	Just Say It

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in 2008.

I was exhausted that night and all I could think entering the loft was: ‘Brian. Bed. Sleep’. Things were awfully busy for me ever since I came back to Pittsburgh after living the longest year of my life in New York City. I was once again attending classes at PIFA in order to finally get my degree, I was working on a couple of pieces a gallery in New York was going to show the following November – because if it was true that the year spent in NY had been hard, it was also true that it had helped me making contacts and now I had an agent and a coming show – and I had resumed my work at the Diner. Brian kept bitching at me about it, but I wasn’t going to let him support me fully. He paid for college, he paid all the bills, he basically already supported me… working at the Diner made me feel a tad bit independent and I wasn’t quitting it.

Although days like this one, spent running from class to class, working my ass off during my shift at the Diner and then spending _hours_ in front of my canvas, always reminded me that maybe independence was bullshit after all.

Now the day was over though, and ‘Brian. Bed. Sleep’ was about to happen, so I wasn’t complaining. Not as much as my feet were anyway.

I shrugged out of my jacket and threw it on the sofa while toeing off my snickers, sighing contentedly when my feet sent me a heartfelt thank you, and slowly made my way towards the bedroom stairs. And that was the moment when my mind registered it. Moans. Moans were coming from the bed. Moans. _Brian’s_ moans. 

I stood there, at the bottom of the stairs, and watched. Brian was lying on his back on the bed, his long legs were open and he had two guys there pleasuring him. One of them was kneeling at Brian’s side and was vigorously sucking his cock, while the other lay between Brian’s legs lapping at his balls with long licks. Brian’s eyes were tightly shut and his head was thrown back. It was undoubtedly a hot scene, I’m sure I’d have appreciated it much more if my chest hadn’t hurt so much.

It’s not like we were monogamous, nothing like that. But when I got back from New York, Brian had promised not to bring tricks to the loft. Our home, our bed. He had promised. 

Well he hadn’t exactly vocalized that promise, he hadn’t said ‘Justin, I promise not to bring tricks in our bed,’ but he knew, he knew I wanted it. And in all the months that had passed since my return, he had _never_ brought a trick home. Until now.

He had broken a promise - shut up, it _was_ a promise even if he hadn’t said the words nor agreed to do that - and if there was something true to be said about Brian was that he _never_ broke his promises. Until now.

Torn between the need to climb the three steps that separated me from the bed and throw the guys out of the door, and the urge to turn around and just leave to go back to the shithole I called my studio, I didn’t do neither. I just kept looking. At the first trick’s mouth going up and down Brian’s shaft, at the second trick’s ass that moved rhythmically along with his hips while he rubbed himself against the duvet and savored Brian’s balls (and what did it say about me the fact that I wanted to yell at him to concentrate on the right one since the left was prosthetic?). 

My eyes’ journey ended when they reached Brian’s face again. But this time Brian’s eyes were open, and I found myself staring into their hazel beauty, now clouded with pleasure and… something else. Something I couldn’t name. Brian was looking right into my eyes, and he kept on looking at me when he let himself come. He didn’t close his eyes, didn’t throw his head back, didn’t shout. He just looked right at me with that _something_ in his expression.

The tricks stopped pleasuring him and he just dismissed them, not caring that neither of them had come yet. They were disappointed, I could see that, but they nonetheless got up without protesting and, finally looking at their faces, I recognized them. They were the ‘pitcher’ and ‘catcher’ twins, two of Brian’s older tricks. They knew him well, that’s why his behaviour hadn’t sparked anything more than disappointment on their faces. 

‘Pitcher’ and ‘catcher’ got dressed, walked past me and out of the door, and for the whole time Brian’s eyes kept mine locked. His expression didn’t change, his mouth didn’t open to reply to the twins when they bid their goodbyes. Brian just kept staring at me.

He wasn’t going to talk, so I did it. “What the hell was that, Brian?”

For a while I thought he wasn’t going to reply and it pissed me off even more. _I_ was the one who had come home to find my partner having a threesome on our bed and _he_ was there acting like I was the one at fault? I wasn’t going to let this bullshit go on much more but, before I could say something, he replied, his voice cold.

“That, _Sunshine_ , was a blowjob completed with ball licking. I thought by now you knew those things.” And then he just got up. He got up the bed and calmly walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. A moment later I heard the shower running.

The urge to just turn around and walk away was now stronger than ever, but the moment I started walking I found myself heading in the direction of the sofa and, once I got there after what seemed like the longest walk I had ever took, I just sat on it staring into space and trying to find an explanation – something other than ‘Brian is a motherfucking piece of shit’ – to the scene I had just witnessed and to Brian’s asshole-ish behaviour.

I don’t know how long I sat there but suddenly I heard noises coming from the bedroom and I saw Brian coming down the steps, his hair still wet and wearing only a towel around his hips. Brian's eyes searched all around the loft and when he finally saw me sitting on the sofa, and I could see them clearly, they seemed to me filled with something resembling panic. But it had to be just an impression or maybe a particular flash of the light, because just a moment later Brian was again staring at me with his cold expression. Cold but still clouded with that _something_ from earlier that I still couldn’t identify.

He was probably waiting for me to talk again but I had no intention of uttering a single word anymore. I just sat there, waiting, while he looked at me from his standing position in the middle of the loft. The role reversal – me sitting and him standing, while before I was the one standing in front of him lying in the bed like the debauched king he undoubtedly thought he was – would have struck me as funny if there wasn't a single thing that could be described as ‘funny’ in the whole situation. 

The silence hung heavy between us until he decided to break it.

“Are you planning on spending the whole night there?” Brian had the nerve to ask, and I wondered briefly if ‘he was being even more of a shit than he was used to’ would stand up in court as defense when I got arrested for killing him.

Deciding he wasn’t worth a lifetime in prison after all, I replied, “No, I’m going back to my studio tonight and spend the night there. And maybe more than just one night.”

The lighting in the loft was acting weird tonight because once again I imagined to see panic in his eyes. But it couldn’t be real. And his next words confirmed it to me.

“If that’s what you want. Have fun in the rathole.” Brian said and then he stood there watching me, waiting for me to get up and leave. If that was what he wanted, who was I to deny it to him?

I got up, walked past him and reached for my jacket. I had already put it back on and was bending over to put my shoes back on too, when I heard it. It was just a whisper but somehow I heard it as clearly as if he had shouted it.

“I bet the Fiddler will be glad to have a little ray of Sunshine in his bed tonight.”

Brian’s words stopped me dead in my tracks and brought me back to a time when I let violin music and the promise of romance drive me away from the only love that truly mattered to me. A time when I was young and hurt and was trying to balance college, work at the Diner – not to mention my unfortunate time with the Sap – and a relationship with an emotionally challenged man, all with my gimp hand. A time when picnics on the floor and words of love could make me forget that I wasn’t enough for the only man that counted, make me believe I could be happy away from him. A time when I made the biggest fucking mistake of my life and struggled to live with the consequences.

But that time had passed, I came back promising ‘no more violin music’ (and _I_ kept my promise!) and was accepted back in Brian’s life. So why now of all times was Brian bringing that up again?

I rose slowly and turned around facing Brian. “What?” Yeah, eloquence had abandoned me but you try coming home after one of the harder days of your life to find your lover having an orgy and, just a moment later, being thrown back almost four years in the past, and then we could talk about eloquence.

Brian seemed surprised I had heard him and tried to shrug off his own words and my question, but I wasn’t having any of that anymore.

“What the hell are you talking about, Brian? What’s Ethan’s got to do with all this?”

I could clearly see that Brian didn’t want to answer me and was about to turn away from me and run from this conversation. But he didn’t, I don’t know what he saw in my eyes that made him stop and talk but a moment later his reply came. “I saw you,” he said and then just stopped, almost like hearing his own voice had surprised him.

Surely his words had surprised _me_. “You saw me? Saw me where Brian? I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Can’t you just say it?”

He didn’t want to say anything more, it was plain as day, but he spoke anyway. And maybe that should have been a hint about how distressed he was feeling, but I guess it was too soon for me to realize it.

“I came by the Diner to eat something with you before you went and buried yourself in your studio to finish your pieces for the show, but you weren’t there anymore. Kiki told me they let you go home earlier to paint because it was a dead night and they could manage without you. I wasn’t feeling much like eating the Diner’s crap alone, so I walked down Liberty Avenue for a while and I saw you. Looks like wittle Sunshine didn’t need to hurry home to paint, he’d rather spend his time in a music store chatting happily with Ian the rat. So tell me, were you already planning on spending tonight with him or did you just now gladly took the chance to go to him since you saw me with tricks?”

To say I was stunned was an understatement. Because yes, I’d seen Ethan at the music store when I stopped there to buy a new CD, since I always paint with music on and was tired of listening to the same things over and over, but we had talked just for a couple of minutes and really, I barely remembered the meeting! I couldn’t believe Brian had seen us and immediately jumped to the wrong conclusions.

“Let me get this straight,” I said shaking my head, “You saw me _talking with Ethan in a store_ and instead of coming in to let me know you wanted to have dinner with me and see for yourself nothing was happening, you thought it was better to come home and fuck tricks in _our_ goddamned bed to punish me? Is that it, Brian?”

To be completely honest, Brian did look embarrassed by the way I verbalized what had happened but, instead of saying something, he just looked at me stubbornly.

And then it happened. 

In that particular moment I saw everything with perfect clarity and I understood. I don’t know if it was my past history with Brian or the endless chapters of the “Brian Kinney Operating Manual” I had written during those years together (and apart), but suddenly everything took its place in my mind and I saw the truth behind Brian’s actions and words.

He had been jealous, so jealous he couldn’t come into the store and talk with me because he knew I would have seen through him, and he’d rather die than offer me visual proof of his jealousy. Joking around with him at Babylon, grinding myself against someone else’s body while looking at Brian delighted to see the possessive look in his eyes, and to hear the growl in his voice when he finally would come take me away from the unimportant trick, was one thing. But making me _see_ just how much his jealousy was hurting him… that wasn’t something Brian could allow.

So instead he thought to strike back, to hurt me as much as I had supposedly hurt him. And the only way he could think of to hurt me was taking tricks home, in our bed. Because the promise might not have been verbalized, but Brian knew that was my wish.

Brian was jealous, Brian was hurting. And, Brian being Brian, talking about it and resolving the issue in a normal way wasn’t possible. He got in full pain management mood and hurt me back at the same time.

It kinda made sense now that I thought about it: that unidentified _something_ I caught in his expression had been a mix of pain, jealousy and guilt. Now I knew.

Sighing, I shrugged off my jacket letting it fall to the floor, followed by my sweater, T-shirt, cargo pants and socks. I smiled at Brian’s raised eyebrow while he looked at ‘the mess’ (he’s so anal), and then all naked, I walked towards my stubborn, hard-headed, idiot of a lover.

I put my arms around him, lay my head on his chest, and held his stiff body tight. For a long moment I thought Brian wasn’t going to hug me back but then I felt his arms circling my body and he held me tight. So tight he took my breath away.

We stood there, holding each other for what seemed like hours (especially to my hurting feet) and then I raised my head and looked at him.

I knew he wouldn’t ask, he was probably even thinking in that thick head of his that I ‘had chosen him’ this time too, so I thought it was better I said the words.

“Nothing happened between me and Ian, Brian.” He let out a chuckle at me using Ian instead of Ethan, and I mentally patted myself on the shoulder for doing it. “I was there to buy a new CD. You know how much I like music when I paint. He was there to arrange for a signing of his latest work in that same shop. He saw me, said hi, we talked for about three minutes, then I said goodbye, paid for my CD and went to my studio. I have no intention of seeing him again, I had no intention of going to him tonight, I have no intention of even talking about him anymore. No more violin music, remember?”

Brian nodded, his body relaxed and he lowered his head to kiss me in what seemed to me like a silent apology. I smiled at him letting him know I had accepted his apology, then started talking again.

“There’s something else I have no intention of doing, Brian.” I said looking at him solemnly. He heard the seriousness of my tone and the guilt came back in his eyes. He knew where I was going to. And how cool was it that I could read him so easily now?

“I have no intention of ever coming home to find you with tricks. I have no intention of letting you off the hook so easily next time you are jealous,” Brian’s snort at this was met by my ‘you can’t fool me’ expression and he looked chastised, “and resort to your old pain management technique. I have no intention of justifying myself every time I meet a former boyfriend and talk with him for a moment. But most of all…” 

My tirade was abruptly interrupted by Brian’s sarcastic, “How many former boyfriends do you have, Sunshine?”

I dismissed this question with a wave of my hand and resumed my oh-so-inspired speech. “Most of all, I was saying, I have no intention whatsoever of sleeping on that bed tonight.”

Brian lowered his eyes at this statement and his body went stiff again. No doubt he was thinking about me leaving for my studio to spend the night alone there. As if I had the will or the energy to put all my clothes back on and _walk_ away!

Rolling my eyes, I put one finger under his chin and forced him to look at me. “I’m not sleeping on that bed, Brian. Not with those sheets anyway, so now _you_ go up there and change the sheets and tomorrow _you_ will throw away the ones with the trick’s smells all over them and again _you_ will go to the Mall and buy us new ones to replace them.”

“You do know that sheets can be washed, little shit, don’t you?” Brian asked raising one eyebrow.

“I don’t want to even look at those sheets again, so it’s replacing them or replace the whole bed. You choose.”

With an amused glint in his eyes, Brian murmured “Twat,” and then kissed me.

My mind chose that moment to start its ‘Brian. Bed. Sleep.’ mantra all over again so I kind of went with the flow and my body sagged against Brian’s. “Tired,” I said sighing, so Brian swept me off my feet (shut up!) and placed me on the sofa while he went to change the sheets.

I struggled to stay awake and wait for Brian finish with the bed, when it occurred to me I had forgotten something. This time I wanted Brian to say the words, to promise me no more tricks in our bed, this time he had to.

So when he got back and, again, took me in his arms to carry me from the sofa to the bed, I told him. I said “Brian, this time you need to say it out loud.”

Brian placed me gently on the bed and, after shaking off his towel, he lay beside me taking me again in his arms. His body molded to mine like it always did, like we were made for each other and, looking at me straight into my eyes, he said,

“I love you.”

Guess I got more than I was aiming for in the end, what do you say?


End file.
